


Wine, Dine, and Sign

by summerofspock



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Paparazzi, Pining, Post-Star Trek Beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: "17 Reasons Kirk and Spock Should Just Fuck Already" and that one time they almost did.





	Wine, Dine, and Sign

**Author's Note:**

> I read a delightful fic by endingthemes in the Cherik fandom called For the Record http://archiveofourown.org/works/4357790 which spawned this idea. What if Kirk and Spock were famous enough for people to speculate if they have sex or not? So here we are.
> 
> And yes Warpspeed is basically Buzzfeed but in the future and in the Star Trek universe

“What’s it like, being the youngest captain in Starfleet?”

 

Jim grits his teeth and smiles into the camera. As always, the lights in the studio are too hot and he can feel a bead of sweat run down his back “Well, Christina, I wouldn’t be nearly as successful as I am without my crew by my side.”

 

The news anchor simpers back mistaking his grimace for genuine interest. “Humble too. We all know we have you to thank for Earth’s continued existence after the Nero Crisis.”

 

Jim thinks if his smile grows any more that it might sprout legs and run off his face. “Again, my crew was integral to our success in that mission.”

 

Spock seems to sense his frustration and steps in smoothly, leaning forward minutely and commanding the reporter’s attention the way only he can. “Perhaps the captain is too modest. While our crew did come together during the Crisis, we could not have succeeded without his strategic thinking and willingness to risk himself in order to ensure the safety of humanity as a whole.”

 

The anchor’s eyes grow sympathetic, the way people’s tend to when regarding a Vulcan in the same breath as speaking about the Crisis. Thankfully, it seems Christina has more tact than the average Terran and breezes past the elephant in the room. “My point exactly.”

 

Not to be sidelined, Jim steps in. “Did you know that Spock is the youngest professor in the history of the academy?”

 

“Well, no but--”

 

“And my CMO the youngest in the fleet?”

 

“That’s not the point of-”

 

“ _ My  _ point is that my people are brilliant and would be brilliant regardless of whether or not I am their captain.”

 

Christina grows slightly pink but handles Kirk’s defiance admirably. “Be that as it may, you cannot deny that the Enterprise has been at the forefront of the last three terrorist attacks in Terran history. You--”

 

Jim clears his throat. “And your crew,” Christiana amends, “have single handedly saved humanity on multiple occasions. It makes us all wonder: what’s the secret ingredient?”

 

Jim exchanges a glance with Spock who remains stoic. He shrugs. “Wrong place, wrong time, I suppose.”

 

“I’d like to dig into that more in a moment. Only on IGBC 6, the first public interview since the Yorktown Incident. This is Christina Gregor with Captain James T Kirk and his first officer, Spock.” 

 

The lights flash indicating the cameras have shut off and Christina slumps in her chair. “Fuck,” she breathes like Jim can’t hear her. He pretends not to and looks over at Spock who seems particularly amused. 

 

His First leans closer to Jim and mumbles, “Perhaps being less argumentative should be the strategy of the day.” 

 

Jim crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. The white plastic creaks beneath his weight. “You? Asking me to be less argumentative?” He snorts. “Pot. Kettle.”

 

Spock straightens up primly. “I am not familiar with that expression, Captain.”

 

“Bullshit,” Jim says, suppressing a grin. Spock is downright  _ playful _ today. He fucking loves it.

 

“Back in five,” someone shouts from the soundstage and Jim sits up at the sound.

 

Christina frowns. “Can I get some water before we’re back from break? Do you guys need anything?” she asks, not entirely unkindly but her persona is significantly less friendly than when the cameras are on.

 

“No, thank you,” Spock says with a slight inclination of his head. 

 

“Water would be great,” Jim says. 

 

A young blue intern runs up with two cups of water and turns a delightful shade of purple when handing Jim his glass. “Thank you for your service,” they mumble, not looking him in the eye as their hands brush before scuttling back into the dark. 

 

Jim grins and looks over at Spock, hoping to share in the joke but his First has lost the telltale glimmer in his eye. Jim nudges him in the side. “Kids, am I right?”

 

Spock doesn’t respond and before Jim can ask what’s wrong, the operator is counting down. 

 

\--

 

Jim is lying in bed absently scrolling through his padd. He’s wearing the reading glasses he continues to insist to Bones that he doesn’t need and idly scratching his bare stomach. The best part of being home is how he can lounge in his underpants for hours on end. No sudden red alerts or problems for him to attend to that require being clothed. It is utter bliss.

The upgrades are nearly done and he only has a handful of emails from the crew. Two are from Bones requisitioning new medical equipment which he signs off on immediately. It’s crazy how fast technology advances these days. The next six are from Scotty all about the same issue with the engine. By the sixth, Jim realizes Scotty has talked himself into a circle and doesn’t actually need anything. He laughs and rolls his eyes before filing the messages into his ‘Scotty’s Going Crazy’ folder. There are also a handful of transfer requests. A few ensigns who he has only met once or twice. It still saddens him to see people transfer off his ship. He’s busy researching the first when a new message pings in the corner of his padd. It’s from Nyota and it’s on his personal line.

 

_ Have you seen this? ;) _

 

It’s a link to one of those gossip sites that Jim used to read for laughs and out of boredom but has since tired of when he became of a topic of conversation. A lot of Top 10 Ways to Be a Better You and Take This Quiz to Find Out Which Flavor of Jello You Are. Jim clicks it out of curiosity. It is Nyota sending it after all so it’s either something hilarious or…

 

Fuck.

 

Jim blinks at his screen, takes off his glasses, reads the title again--this time blurrier- and then reads it a third time with his glasses back on.

 

**17 Reasons Kirk and Spock Should Just Fuck Already**

 

He is flabbergasted for so many reasons he can’t even begin to wrap his head around them. First, the article calls them out by name? Are they that famous? His brain ticks through the last several months, a whir of images of him and Spock on talkshows, interviewed for websites and periodicals. Fuck. 

 

Second, why would  _ Nyota  _ send this to him? Nyota, Spock’s girlfriend. What in fresh hell? This he can figure out.

 

_ Wait what? Aren’t you and Spock fucking? _

 

_ As if _ .  _ We haven’t been dating for years. _

 

Kirk gawps at his padd. Years. And Spock had never told him. All that guilt after Ch’Pihit and that goddamn ritual and...fuck. No reason. Suddenly Kirk is mad at Spock. How fucking dare he?

 

His padd pings again  _ Wait, did you not know that? _

 

_ Unfortunately no _

 

_ Oh _ . Comes back almost immediately. It’s followed by  _ :( _

 

_ Yeah. :(  _ Kirk types about before realizing that that perhaps reveals too much. He deletes the message before he sends it and turns back to the article. He’d only gotten as far as the title before losing his cool. He hopes he can get through at least four reasons before needing to take a break. 

 

The first is a picture of him and Spock at what looks to be a gala. Jim is wearing an old earth suit, complete with pin stripes and wide tie. Spock looks resplendent in classic Vulcan formalwear, the tight silver script running down his robes flashing between the folds of the black velvet. Jim’s mouth waters at the sight. He shakes himself briefly. This is exactly what the article is talking about goddammit.

 

The second is from their interview with Christina Gregor. Jim doesn’t know who took it but he feels a sudden spike of frustration at his lack of situational awareness. To be fair, he’d been fairly caught up in Spock. It’s clear the commander has just said something that struck Jim as particularly hilarious, his head is thrown back in joy, his hand pressed to his heart as if to contain his mirth. Spock is halfway turned from the camera but Jim can see the smirk playing across his lips. 

 

The third picture hits a little close to home. They are leaving some place. It looks like a bar. Jim thinks he recognizes it as one of the crew’s regulars in San Fran. Him and Spock had left together since they were both rooming at the officer’s quarters on campus and some paparazzi had ambushed them as they left. Jim’s hand is low on Spock’s waist guiding him through the crowd. And somehow, even though Jim had not noticed it at the time, Spock is leaning into him, letting Jim take the lead. The pose is undeniably intimate and it makes a flush rise on Jim’s cheeks.

 

His padd pings as he’s halfway through the article realizing that almost all the pictures are more of the same. Nothing explicit. But that’s the problem isn’t it? What they’ve left implied?

 

_ OMG have you seen this? _

 

It’s Bones and he sent the same link Nyota had. 

 

_ Bones did you just say OMG _

 

_ Yes. This felt OMG worthy _ .

 

A pause.

 

_ I take it you’ve seen it then. _

 

_ Yeah. Nyota beat you to it.  _

 

Jim can practically hear Bones grumbling in the silence that follows. He sends off another message.  _ It turns out they aren’t dating anymore. _ He assumes Bones will figure out who he means.

 

_ Yeah. Not for a couple of years. _

 

Before Jim can even reply, Bones follows up the first message with  _ WAIT you didn’t KNOW _

 

_ FML _

 

_ LOL _

 

_ Don’t LOL at me Bones. It’s weird. _

 

_ lol _

 

Jim sends him the middle finger emoji and flips back to the article. He’s on the 10th reason and feeling something like shame curling low in his belly. Has he been this obvious? It’s one thing to be in love with your best friend of 7 years and quite another to telegraph said love to the entire world with your body language. 

 

The 17th picture almost makes him drop his padd. Thank god it’s the last one or Jim may have suffered an involuntary heart attack. It’s from right after  _ that  _ mission. The diplomatic overtures at Ch’Pihit. They’re on the Enterprise, alone in the corridor outside Jim’s quarters. The low light makes Jim certain that it’s gamma shift but it only serves to make the picture look more intimate. More romantic. Jim has Spock cornered against the bulkhead and is leaning up into his space clearly whispering something into his ear. Spock’s entire being looks focused on Jim. Kirk’s eyes linger on the way his hand is curled possessively around Spock’s bicep and Spock’s hand is hovering by his hip in turn, not daring to make contact.

 

He sends the photo off to Rand in a fit. If anyone can be trusted to keep her mouth shut and get to the bottom of things, it’s Rand. God love that woman.

 

_ Who the fuck took this _

 

Rand replies immediately.  _ I’m so sorry Jim. I took it. It was one of the ones from the 5 year slideshow when we docked. The admiralty asked for photos from the mission and I gave them all the ones I had. I didn’t really proof it. I guess Warpspeed must of have gotten ahold of it from there. _

 

Jim resists the urge to drop his face into his palm. 

 

_ Its fine. Not your fault.  _

 

Rand doesn’t answer for a moment but when she does Jim can sense her hesitance in the question.  _ Are you going to talk to him about it? _

 

He groans and tosses the padd on the bed beside him before flopping onto his pillows face first. He forgot he was wearing his glasses so they dig into his face uncomfortably. He fumbles them off and folds them up haphazardly before flopping back down. 

 

His padd pings again but he doesn’t even roll over to look at it. This sucks.

 

\--

 

Ch’Pihit was supposed to be a normal mission. A regular wine, dine and sign as Jim liked to call it. And it had started out exactly that way. Spock had, as per usual, insisted on beaming down with Jim who, at a certain point in the 5 year mission, had come to expect this behavior. It always made him glow with fondness. Spock, flaunting regulation, to experience the unknown with him. He insisted it was because he had important scientific duties as science officer in spite of his responsibility as first officer. This usually left Scotty or Sulu in charge on the bridge.

 

The mission to Ch’Pihit was no exception. Jim had clapped Sulu on the shoulder and asked if he wanted the con. The helmsman had grinned and accepted the temporary promotion. “Is McCoy coming with you?”

 

Jim had laughed. “Nah. The planet is M-class and fairly populous. We shouldn’t be in any danger.”

 

Jim and Spock had beamed down alone. Jim to perform the necessary diplomatic entreaties in order to get the Ch’Puth to sign with the Federation and Spock to take the samples expected of the Chief Science Officer aboard the Enterprise. Spock had been surprisingly chatty as they prepared for beam down.

 

“The high levels of nitrogen in the soil should produce unusually colorful plants, Captain. I look forward to viewing their fauna as well as obtaining pieces of refuse.”

 

Jim shook his head but said fondly, “Only you would be excited about garbage, Spock.”

 

“What a species throws away is nearly as important as what it cultivates. In the case of the Ch’Puth, their refuse is clearly nourishing their soil to the point of extreme fertility. It could potentially be replicated on a smaller scale to create a self sustaining biosphere.”

 

They climbed onto the transporter together. “Maybe keep that to yourself, Spock. Let me do the talking.”

 

Spock inclined his head. “As always, I defer to your methods of communication.”

 

Jim gave Scotty the thumbs up and their engineer beamed them down.

 

Jim’s first impression was that Spock wasn’t wrong. They were beamed down to the steps of what the president of Ch’Pihit had said was the equivalent of a capitol building. The structure seemed to be made entirely of vines. Bright blue flowers burst through the tangle at various intervals. 

 

“Fascinating,” Spock breathed and Jim had to fight down the urge to grin at him. The contingent of Ch’Puth that have been sent to greet them stood in a cluster along the stone steps in front of the building. They shuffled forward on their long limbs. They were humanoid but tall as cherry trees, and as slim. They towered over Jim and Spock by several feet but projected a calm, welcoming aura. Their green skin burnished brown at the edges. The foremost Ch’Puth offered them a smile which Jim returned. 

 

The tall pale beings led Jim and Spock into the building. It seemed that the vines covering the outside were just an effect since the entire inside was made of clear gray stone.

 

Jim chanced a glance at his first officer who seemed absorbed in his tricorder. The lead Ch’Puth began to speak as they climbed down the steps into the lower chamber of the building. “Welcome to Ch’Pihit, Captain Kirk. Your exploits among the stars are famous to many Ch’Puth. We are blessed to have you here for the equinox festival.”

 

Jim hummed in response to the little speech. The group turned a corner together and the room opened up into a giant domed chamber. The vines from outside the building were etched into the stone of the great room with painted flowers mimicking the splashes of color. Jim’s surprised must have shown on his face for the lead Ch’Puth chuckled softly, “Beautiful, isn’t it? Your quarters are just off the main chamber. You and your partner will be housed there this evening. It is where our honored guests always stay.”

 

Jim inclined his head. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

 

“Please call me Ch’Tel. There are garments laid out in your room. Please change into them and I will call you to my chambers to review the necessary steps of the ritual prior to the festivities  in 2 hours time.”

 

“Thank you Ch’Tel,” Jim said politely as one of the shorter Ch’Puth took his elbow and steered him across the expansive chamber. Jim used the opportunity to survey the room. Besides the archway they had entered in, the room had 4 other arches that led into shadowed hallways. Between each archway, Jim could see the outline of door nested between the stone pillars. The one directly across from their entrance was where Jim’s guide brought him, Spock tailing closely behind, less absorbed in his tricoder now that they were in indoors.

 

His guide inclined their head as they opened the door to Jim. “During the solstice festival, leaders share everything with their second in command. This is equality. This is peace,” they said, gesturing Jim and Spock into the large stone room with no little ceremony.

 

The chamber was not as high ceilinged as the main room but the ceiling still arced away from the walls at a steep angle, thick stone beams creating an intricate pattern. Jim wasn’t surprised by the lack of windows. They had seemingly gone underground as they entered the building. 

 

Jim clapped his hands together and the sound echoed off the stone walls in the smaller space. “I guess that means we’re rooming together, eh Spock?”

 

Spock just raised an eyebrow and entered the room smoothly. It wasn’t the first time they had been bunked together by well meaning (and not so well meaning) alien races. It was insane how many planets had cultures wherein Jim and Spock should have been married. He always felt like he had to apologize to Uhura after but when he mentioned his guilt to Spock one night over chess after their shift, Spock had shook his head. “Nyota would take no issue with their assumptions. The position of first officer comes with certain expectations,” he had explained before promptly changing the subject to the potential value of universal morality. 

 

The Ch’Puth emissary at the door watched them make their way into the room before performing the half bow, half wobble gesture that Jim was beginning to associate with deference. “As Ch’Tel informed you, there are traditional garments in the wardrobe. Please ring the bell if you have questions. This is peace,” they said before backing out of the room and shutting the door.

 

Jim did a lap of the room which was easily three times the size of his quarters on the Enterprise. “Nice digs,” he said, flicking on an orblike lamp by the couch. The glass ball glowed a low blue which mixed with the overhead yellow light to create an eerie green cast. 

 

Spock crossed to the aforementioned wardrobe and opened the doors. Two robes, matching in style, one green, one brown, hung in the closet. “Which one do you believe is designated for the leader?” Spock asked.

 

Jim clambered over the sofa and pulled the brown robe from the wardrobe. “Brown. Ch’Tel was wearing brown. Everyone else was in tan. I wonder who wears green for him.”

 

Spocks hummed thoughtfully before grabbing his own robe. 

 

“So, do you think we have an en suite or…” Jim asked wandering over to a suspicious blank portion of the wall which, when approached revealed a handle. “A-ha!”

 

Jim changed swiftly in the bathroom while Spock did the same in the room and they rejoined each other in their chamber. “So far so good,” Jim said, perching on the arm of the couch as Spock scanned the room with his tricorder. “I think we can get out of here tomorrow if the festival goes well. The Ch’Puth don’t seem openly hostile.”

 

“I must admit, Captain, that I am at a loss. Why would the Federation send the flagship to sign this planet? They seem disposed to join and not in dire straits.”

 

Jim shrugged, slightly uncomfortable at feeling caught out. “Actually, I, uh, asked for this mission.”

 

Spock looked up from his tricorder abruptly and Jim rushed to explain. “I heard an M-class planet was looking to join the Federation and I petitioned to come out here. I thought the crew could use shore leave after the signing. The admiralty was only too happy to grant my request. Things have been quiet.”

 

Spock shook his head minutely. “You misunderstand. You do not need to explain yourself to me. I was simply...surprised that you felt the need to keep something as simple as this from me. I thought…” Spock drifted off without completing his sentence and Jim stood up in a rush, crossing the room to grab Spock’s forearm.

 

“Your opinion matters to me Spock. I just wasn’t sure how you’d react to shore leave. It’s all not very Vulcan.”

 

Spock’s mouth twisted in the way that it always did when half a smile was trying to work it’s way onto his face. “Yes, but I understand that the rest of the crew is also ‘not very Vulcan.’”

 

Jim threw his head back and laughed. Suddenly, his hands where they gripped Spock’s arm felt absurdly hot and he realized how close he was standing to his first officer.  His eyes dropped to Spock’s mouth before he took a step back, running a hand over his face. “I guess I didn’t purposely keep it from you but I just didn’t want to argue about it. It seemed so trivial.”

 

Spock nodded and Jim could practically feel. “Do not distress yourself. This is hardly a disagreement. Merely a slight miscommunication.”

 

Jim laughed. “Wow, you swooping in to calm me down? I think I need that shore leave,” he said with a self deprecating grin. Moving further away from his first officer, Jim approached the looking glass in the corner and adjusted his robes. The brown robes washed out his tan skin, making him look more tired than he felt. He looked over at Spock  who, as always, looked beautiful in his green robes. The deep emerald offsetting the green tones in his skin like a jewel.

 

“You should wear green more often.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he really thought through them. Spock raised an eyebrow.

 

“I don’t know when I would have the opportunity but I will take it under advisement,” Spock replied, eyes twinkling and Jim’s stomach flipped. 

 

A soft tapping at the door prevented Jim from having to respond. Not that he would have known how. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought Spock was flirting with him. But Spock and Uhura…

 

“Come in,” Jim called as the door eased open to reveal the same Ch’Puth who had lead them to the room earlier.

 

“Ch’Tel has requested your presence. He wishes to review the ceremony with you prior to the performance.”

 

Jim nodded his acquiescence and glanced over at Spock who had drifted to his elbow. “I am ready, Captain,” Spock said, answering the unasked question.

 

“Perfect. Lead the way!”

 

The main chamber has been transformed since Jim and Spock had entered their bedroom. Little lights and been wound around all the arches on the edges of the room. The ceiling was dotted in the lights, giving the impression of a starry sky. “A beautiful sight, is it not, Jim?” Spock breathed to his right and Jim grinned. It was very beautiful but for Spock to comment on it , it must be striking a particular nerve. 

 

“There is something magical about it,” Jim acknowledged as their guide edged open a door across the chamber, revealing a bedroom that was practically a mirror of the own they had been given.

 

Ch’Tel greeted them the moment they stepped through the door. His branch like arms opened expansively, “Welcome to my chambers, Kirk and his First. We are honored by your presence.”

 

“We are honored by your welcome,” Jim replied. 

 

“I see you have dressed yourself accordingly. The green of our first’s uniform is a deep honor for you are the leaves which sustain the tree. The purpose of this festival is to celebrate the relationship between the tree and its leaves.”

 

The bathroom opened and another Ch’Puth entered the room, already dressed in a longer version of Spock’s ‘First’ robes. 

 

“This is Ch’Sen, my First in command. He serves me much like your Spock serves you.”

 

Jim laughed. “Spock doesn’t exactly serve me. I like to think of our relationship as one of equals.”

 

Ch’Tel shook his head fondly. “Forgive the imprecision of my language. While at times, Ch’Sen and myself find ourselves at odds, we too tend towards an even exchange of power.” Ch’Tel reached out to Ch’Sen with his long brown fingers and the two interlaced their hands. The tall being’s face turned almost tender. “Ch’Sen has seen me through many trials and has stood by my side in all things.”

 

“Ch’Tel,” Ch’Sen replied with kind admonishment. “We have brought them here to prepare them for the festival. Perhaps we should begin.”

 

“You are right, Ch’Sen. I am sorry I’ve grown distracted.” The two exchanged an intimate smile and the pair turned to Jim and Spock to brief them.

 

The ritual began an hour later with quite a bit of fanfare. Kirk and Spock were held in their rooms until beckoned by the same servant who had led them to Ch’Tel’s quarters earlier. 

 

Jim walked through the ritual with Spock, they shared a cup of wine, first Kirk then Spock and then together, the cup in their joined hands. Ch’Sen said it represented the interlocking of the branches. The tightness of the weave stronger than the individual branch. It was a lovely idea. 

 

The room was filled with the tree-like beings, looking on in awe. It was something that never failed to intrigue Jim. The way other cultures revered things. It was the best thing about the job, seeing cultures throughout the galaxy. 

 

Jim and Spock went through the motions of the ritual as instructed by their hosts and then followed Ch’Sen and Ch’Tel to the high banquet table and were joined by other high ranking Ch’Puth who shook their hands and welcomed them to Ch’Pihit. 

 

The first to greet them said, “We do not often have outsiders at Ch’Pihit. It is a great honor. And we are blessed with beings of two races. A Vulcanian and a Terran. I am intrigued as to how your people work so well together.”

 

Spock inclined his head and answered even as Jim opened his mouth. “Our people founded the Federation together. Despite our differences, we found we were stronger together. I often think that my dual ancestry gives me a unique perspective on the matter.”

 

The Ch’Puth’s mouth opened wide in surprise. “You are part Terran?”

 

“Yes. My mother was human.”

 

“We did not know your species could mate. Ch’Puth have never attempted such a marvel.”

 

“With a little science, almost all humanoids can mate,” Jim said as he snagged a cup of fruit wine off a passing waiter’s tray.  He found his feet didn’t touch the ground in the tall Ch’Puth’s chairs, it made him feel very young with them dangling beneath him as he sipped at his wine.

 

“A most intriguing concept,” The Ch’Puth said, turning back to his food, a pale orange cold soup that Jim found himself enjoying. He made a noise of appreciation that Spock must have noticed since he said, “The texture is very similar to plomeek.”

 

“So you like it too?” Jim asked 

 

Spock hummed wordlessly which Jim interpreted as fervent agreement. Ch’Sen who was seated to their right leaned forward with a smile. “Are you enjoying the soup of the th’lesse?”

 

“It has a very unique flavor. And I believe it reminds my first officer of a soup from his home world,” Jim offered as he took another spoonful.

 

‘“I see. Commander Spock, does this Vulcanian soup also enable the joining of your people?”

 

Spock’s brows furrowed slightly. “I do not believe I understand.”

 

“We eat the th’lesse soup during the festival in order to facilitate the joining.” When both Kirk and Spock continued to regard him with confusion Ch’Sen tried again. “Forgive me. I believe I am caught up in the words of the ceremony. All our pairs drink of the th’lesse and use the energy of the vegetable to mate. It is tradition on Ch’Pihit.”

 

Jim had to restrain himself from spitting out the soup.

 

Turning slightly green, Spock replied, “No. Our soup serves no ceremonial purpose.”

 

Jim admired his composure. Almost immediately his palms started to sweat. It wasn’t the first time he had been exposed to some weird alien aphrodisiac. It had happened twice before to Jim personally but neither time had he been with Spock; the first time, it had turned out to have no effect on human physiology. The other, well, Jim had taken matters into his own hands. Chekov, who he had been with on that mission, had experienced similar side effects. 

 

Not wanting to make a scene, Jim made casual conversation throughout the next 4 courses. Each one seemingly had another purpose for the joining. The second for ‘prolonged entanglement,’ the third for “pleasure in the places of joining” which honestly made Jim curious about how the Ch’Puth mated. The fourth wasn’t accompanied by Ch’Sen’s careful description but seemed fairly self explanatory as Ch’Puth started to pair off and feed the course to their partner. Ch’Sen gestured to the plate between Jim and Spock and said, “Please indulge yourselves. Share with your First, Captain.”

 

Jim looked at Spock apologetically and speared one of the fruits with his utensil. “Open wide, Commander.”

 

Spock’s eyes grew tight at the edges in the way that Jim knew signalled immense discomfort, but he opened his mouth all the same. He was no stranger to that expression after enough away missions with alien customs and often disregarded personal space. Jim watched his green-tinged lips close over the the peach cube of fruit and felt heat stir in his belly. Not a totally uncommon reaction to the nearness of his first officer, but, given the circumstances, definitely something he felt warranted some worry.

 

Apparently, Spock was not unaffected either, his pupils dilating as his tongue touched the fruit. Jim’s hand was on his cheek. How did it get there?

 

His thumb carved a path up Spock’s cheekbone and he could feel the subtle motion of his molars as he chewed, his stubble scratched against the sensitive pads of his fingers and Jim felt caught as a spider in a web.

 

Spock swallowed with some difficulty and said, in ragged tones, “Jim…”

 

Loathe as he was to do it, Jim tore his gaze away from the green tinged face he loved so much and surveyed the room. The other party goers were clearly as caught up in each other as he had been with Spock moments ago. Ch’Sen and Ch’Tel chief among them, long limbs entangled like vines, mouths pressed together as they emitted a keening sound.

 

From somewhere in the antechamber, a bell rang. Once. Twice. The couples separated and Ch’Tel stood, not bothering to hide his arousal which seem to manifest in the Ch’Puth by a bright rosy glow to their flesh which had previously been green and brown.

 

“We have begun the entangling. Proceed to your chambers to complete your entwinement.”

 

Chairs scraped across stone as the rest of the Ch’Puth stood, and staggered to their rooms at various points in the circular chamber. At the same moment, Kirk decided to hold out as long as he could, the door to the chamber he shared with Spock shut behind them. He had no knowledge of the journey there, only the hot press of Spock’s body against his side.

 

“Spock, we’ve got to fight this.”

 

Spock made a noise of affirmation but he did not step away from Jim’s side.

 

“Do you have your tricorder? Perhaps you can isolate whatever’s causing the arousal.”

 

“Perhaps.” Spock said, still not moving away.

 

Jim turned to his first officer and gripped his upper arms. “Spock, you have to get your head on straight. We have to fight this.”

 

“What if I do not wish to?”

 

That simple phrase, uttered in the same baritone as the daily science readings, was Jim’s undoing. 

 

They came together like two halves of a whole, magnetized at the hip. Jim found his hands tangled in Spock’s hair, the soft bristles, falling through his fingers like silk. The touch of Spock’s tongue against his lips was a welcome intrusion and Jim let his lips fall open. He moaned at the first contact of their tongues together, the sharp electricity caused by the contact like lightning down his spine. He was growing impossibly hard, impossibly quickly. He wanted to blame the ceremony, the food. But he knew in the back of his mind that this was how it would have always been with Spock.

 

The last person Jim had kissed was a random woman in a bar who had looked at him from under her lashes and giggled when he introduced himself. It had been lovely. Heated and soft. She had pressed him against the wall of the bar and ground against his hesitant erection. She had tasted like cranberries and lipstick and Jim had hoped it would be just the thing. The thing to get Spock out of his system for the night. A few short hours where everything would only be skin and pleasure and another person’s needs. Instead, he had delicately pushed her away with a soft parting kiss before hightailing it out of there. 

 

He had wanted to kiss Spock for so long, wanted to without realizing the wanting existed. One day he was simply sitting on the bridge wondering what sounds Spock would make if Jim nibbled on his ears and Jim realized at some point he had fallen in deep. Bones always likened romance to a lake,  _ just jump in Jim _ , but Jim thought that it was more like a boiling kettle, silent, a steady simmer until the heat makes it whistle. 

 

Suddenly, Spock’s hands were under his ceremonial robe. The hot dry press of his hands against Jim’s sensitive sides made him gasp.

 

“All right?” Spock asked as he undid the tie on the back of the robe, his lips still skimming along Jim’s jaw.

 

“Mm, yeah. Just been a while and I forgot how ticklish my sides are,” Jim murmured into Spock’s neck as he kissed along the tantalizing strip of collarbone available above the high necked robe.

 

Spock hummed in pleasure and splayed his fingers out against Jim’s ribs. “I find the temperature of your skin arousing.”

 

With a final tug, the robe fell from his shoulders, his skin exposed to the cooler air of the room but Jim felt like he was burning from the inside. The heat of their hips together reminding him at every turn just how much Spock was enjoying the proceedings. 

 

“God, Spock you have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” Jim said as his first officer pushed him onto the bed. Jim let his knees hit the edge as he collapsed, his bones like jelly, onto the soft sheets. The Ch’Puth sure knew their luxury. 

 

Spock hummed again and crawled up his body, claiming his lips once more. Jim opened his mouth and nibbled at Spock’s lower lip, reveling in the sweet, spicy taste of the fruit from dinner, the arousing taste of Spock. Not quite human, warmer, tangier and yet the taste only heightened Jim’s arousal.. Spock pulled away from Jim and nuzzled into his neck, the soft texture of his hair tickled Jim’s chin as Spock drew open mouth kisses down his chest. He ran one hot hand over Jim’s exposed nipple and Jim arched his back into the touch unable to stifle a moan. Had his nipples always been this sensitive or was it that fucking soup?

 

Jim struggled onto his elbows as Spock continued his downward trek over Jim’s belly, his tongue dragging over the hairs that led to the waistband of his boxers. “Spock,” Jim said, his voice so ragged it surprised even him.

 

Spock looked up at him through his lashes and, oh was that a sight to behold. Jim’s dick twitched in his pants and he cupped Spock’s chin, caressing a thumb over the light stubble forming there. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.”

 

Spock looked down at himself and nodded. “Forgive me. I became carried away.”

 

“Trust me,” Jim said with a laugh. “I was just as carried away but get rid of the damn robe, Commander.”

 

Jim could swear that Spock smirked at him as he undid the tie at his hip and the robes slipped from his torso. Jim may have seen Spock shirtless before but nothing prepared him for the beauty of seeing the Vulcan exposed like that in his bed, ready to be undone by Jim. It’s one thing to see the object of your lust shirtless at the gym and quite another to know you’re about to lick every inch of his exposed skin. The pale expanse of his green-tinged chest made Jim’s mouth go dry. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

 

“You are also aesthetically pleasing,” Spock said still raised up on his knees. Jim reached out and grabbed at his hips, still clad in the cotton fleet issue briefs, trying to urge him back down onto the bed. Spock made a little huffing sound as he came forward to press his body against Jim’s once more.

 

If Spock pressed against him fully clothed was too much, than Spock pressed against him all bare skin could only be classified as a supernova. Everywhere their skin touched, Jim felt fire. He dug his fingers into Spock’s hair and pulled him into a rough kiss. Where their previous kisses had been slick passion, this one was fierce, full of teeth. Jim pulled back and breathed raggedly. “Fuck, Spock.”

 

Spock did not reply as a he dropped to the bed by Jim’s side, his body pressed against Jim’s hip. He placed his hands on Jim’s belly, dragging his fingers through the hair there, a delightful tickle. Spock leaned their foreheads together and their lips just barely touched as he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Jim’s boxers. Straight to the point, and Jim should have expected no less. He gasped as Spock gripped him tightly, one, two strokes, before rubbing his thumb over the head, the amount of precome there almost embarassing. Jim made a mewling noise against Spock’s mouth which seemed to please the Vulcan, his lips quirking as he kept up his rhythm. 

 

Jim clumsily reached out to caress Spock through his boxers. The firm outline of his dick visible through the gray fabric. While Spock made no sound in reaction to his ministrations, his hips stuttered into Jim’s grip, making Jim grin. 

 

After another open mouthed kiss, Jim asked in a half whisper, “Fuck, can I blow you?”

 

Spock rolled onto his back in clear approval as he pulled his hand from Jim’s shorts. Jim swung his legs over Spock’s hips and pulled at Spock’s boxers until the Vulcan lifted his hips to give Jim room to remove the offending garment. The grey scrap of fabric hit the floor and Jim’s mouth dropped open at the sight of Spock’s penis, which, if he was being honest with himself, had been the focus of not a few late night fantasies. The shaft was flushed a deep green while the head was a light chartreuse. He reached out to stroke him and his hand met slick skin. “Oh my god, are you...wet?” It was the only way he could characterize it. The texture that met his hand so similar to that he had encountered between the legs of human women.

 

Jim looked up at Spock’s face and was mesmerized by green high on his cheekbones, the sheen to his eyes, so uncharacteristic of his stoic first officer and thought  _ fuck, it’s the food. We’re both high as fuck _ . 

 

“Indeed, Jim.” It took Jim a moment to remember he had asked Spock a question and he wasn’t just uncannily reading his mind. “Vulcans self lubricate.”

 

Jim’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “Well, you’re definitely going to fuck me tonight.”

 

Spock reached out and ran his thumb over Jim’s lower lip. “I am amenable.”

 

Jim laughed and leaned down to lick some of that delicious looking lubricant off of the tips of Spock’s dick when  the thought hit him again.  _ We shouldn’t be doing this. _ “Spock,” Jim said again. Spock reached out and carded his fingers through Jim’s hair. 

 

“Yes, Jim?”

 

“Do you really want this?” he asked, feeling cold dread gather in his belly, a fluttering like birds.. 

 

“Have I done something to make you believe otherwise?” Spock asked, sitting up and trying to tangle their fingers together, but Jim pulled away.

 

“No, but it’s the ceremony. The food. I’ve been through this before with Chekov.”

 

“Chekov,” Spock returned, a dark undercurrent to his tone. Jim stood and ran his hands through his hair suddenly very aware of his state of undress.

 

“Yeah, on Hephasteon? It was awful, there was this flower…”

 

“Cease your explanations, Captain,” Spock said stiffly, rising from the bed as well to retrieve his discarded briefs. “Perhaps we should simply retire for the evening. The  _ food _ ’s effects will surely leave our system by morning.”

 

Spock dressed primly while Jim stood gaping at the pale green expanse of his back. Once he was covered once more, Spock settled onto the ground near the wall, his eyes, distant, locked onto Jim’s and he said, each word like ice, “I shall meditate. You can have the bed, Captain.”

 

Numb, Jim returned to the bed and laid down, subsumed in the smell of Spock’s sweat and the sex they almost had.

 

Jim opened his eyes the next morning with no sense of what time it was. The lack of natural light in the chamber was disconcerting. The faint sounds of water came from the bathroom and Jim presumed it was Spock showering. Jim clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. Spock. He should have kept his mouth shut last night. A soft knock at the door had Jim swinging himself out of bed. “Enter,” he called as he threw the robe from the previous night’s festivities around his shoulders.

 

The same servant from the night before eased the door open. “Ch’Tel has requested your presence in his chamber.”

 

Jim scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the stubble there. “Sure, kid. Let me just get dressed and you can take me there.”

 

“You are adequately dressed, Captain. Please follow me,” the young Ch’Puth said as he turned and walked briskly from the room.

 

“Shit,” Jim murmured, hastily tying the robe around his hips.

 

The walk to Ch’Tel’s quarters seemed infinitely longer without Spock by his side. He was ushered into the leader’s quarters with very little ceremony and the door was shut behind him.

 

Ch’Tel was sat at a large stone desk, shirtless except for what looked to be an open dressing gown about his shoulders. His face lit up at Jim’s presence. “Captain!” he exclaimed, setting down the papers he had been working with. “How was the joining between yourself and your First? Ch’Sen and myself found much joy together.”

 

Jim inclined his head and pasted a smile on his face. “As did my First and myself.”

 

Ch’Tel nodded. “I am very pleased with the Federations respect for other cultures. Your presence here has meant a great deal to myself and my people. I would not be averse to further discussions about joining such an open-minded group. Becoming a branch on such a tree would not be against the values of the Ch’Puth.”

 

“I’m delighted to hear that Ch’Tel. I’ll let Starfleet know.”

 

Ch’Tel nodded as if, in his infinite wisdom, he’d expected that response. “I hope you and your people can enjoy all that Ch’Puth has to offer. My people will welcome them as their own.”

 

Jim’s grin became more genuine. “That would be much appreciated. In all honesty, it has been a long time since my crew has had any rest and your planet is so beautiful. It would be an honor if you’d allow us shore leave on Ch’Pihit.”

 

Ch’Tel nodded and tapped a long finger against his lips. “I will discuss this with Ch’Sen but I cannot see any reason why not. If he is in agreement, I’ll have my steward contact you to make arrangements. The Western beaches are particularly beautiful this time of year, if I might make a suggestion.”

 

“Thank you, Ch’Tel. I look forward to hearing from you. If it isn’t an inconvenience, my first officer and myself will return to my ship and wait for your word.”

 

Ch’Tel nodded with a grin. “Absolutely. Thank you again Captain.”

 

Jim thanked the Ch’Puth once more before exiting his quarters. God, he needed a shower. When he returned to the quarters he was sharing with Spock, his first officer was sat quietly on the chair nearest the bed, eyes closed, not meditating but somewhere between that and sleep. A clear ‘Fuck off Jim’ if there ever was one. Jim pushed through it regardless.Spock might have been all things delicate and cold but Jim could be a hammer and he was not in the mood for Spock’s bullshit.

 

“I’m taking a shower,” Jim announced as he crossed the room, dropping the robe from his body. Fuck Spock and his prudeness. “Can you comm the ship and ask if them to get ready for beam up?”

 

When Spock’s eyes open, they did a quick once over of Jim’s naked body and while Spock’s expression may not have changed, Jim could see something coil tightly behind his eyes Good.

 

“Yes, Captain.”

 

Jim rolled his eyes and  yanks open the bathroom door. “Thanks, _ Commander _ .”

 

He rushed through his shower, half full of rage and half full of shame. God he fucked up. How could he fix this? It’s Spock. The most important person in his life. Both professional and personal. How fucked up is that? 

 

Staring at himself in the half fogged mirror as he dried off his torso, Jim played through a variety of scenarios. “Sorry about yesterday. Man that soup really fucked me up. What happened after we went back to the room?”

 

A lie Spock would sniff out immediately,

 

“Sorry about yesterday. I’m just madly in love with you and was afraid of what it all meant.”

 

Spock would probably spit in his face.

 

“Sorry about yesterday. I’m a dick.”

 

Jim shrugged. Short and to the point. Should work. If Spock let him get a word in edgewise. 

 

He wrapped the towel around his waist and went into the living area where he would have to rustle up his clothes from the night before. Spock studiously avoided looking at him as he crossed the room and rummaged through the wardrobe. He dressed efficiently and felt much better when the command emblem settled across his chest. There was something like armor about his uniform, he felt so much more himself when it was on his shoulders.

 

Once everything was in its requisite place and zipped, Spock did the little half cough that was the equivalent of clearing one’s throat but somehow Vulcan and stripped of emotion. “If we proceed to the beam down coordinates, Scotty is prepared to return us to the ship.”

 

“All right, Mr. Spock. Lead the way.”

 

The two Starfleet officers walked through the building in silence so thick Jim felt like he could choke on it. They took their leave from Ch’Tel who shook Jim’s hand with a smile and said Ch’Sen had excitedly supported the idea of shore leave for the Enterprise crew. Jim grinned.“I’ll put my yeoman in touch with your steward to get the shifts arranged.”

 

“Delightful, Captain.” Ch’Tel said as he took his leave.

 

Jim and Spock exited the building and walked into the wooded area surrounding the capital. Spock continued the ice routine and Jim sighed. His First Officer pulled out his communicator. “Spock to Enterprise.”

 

“Scotty here.”

 

“We are ready for beam up, Mr. Scott.”

 

“Aye aye, sir.”

 

Jim crossed his arms and scowled as the tingling of the transporter overtook his body.

 

Scotty stood in the transporter room, his usual grin about his face. “Welcome back, Captain. Mr Spock.”

 

Spock nodded and took off like a bat out of hell.

 

Scotty’s eyebrows shot up and Jim smiled in apology. “Sorry, Scotty,” he said quickly as he jogged after his First Officer.

 

He thought he heard his engineer say, “Good luck,” but he couldn’t be sure.

 

Spock was halfway down the corridor by the time Jim caught up with him. “Hold on, Spock!”

 

Spock didn’t slow his gait so Jim was forced to run the rest of the way. He grabbed Spock’s elbow. That finally caused the Vulcan to pause. “Spock, about yesterday--”

 

“I don’t believe we need to discuss it, sir. As you said, it happens all the time.”

 

Jim’s fingers tightened on Spock’s elbow. “That’s not what I meant. I was just trying to get your consent. We both weren’t in our right minds. I was dick. I’m sorry.”

 

Spock’s lips thinned but he nodded. “Your apology is accepted captain.”

 

Jim breathed a sigh of relief and his head hung forward, his forehead almost touching Spock’s shoulder and Jim’s whole body ached with the desire to embrace him.

 

And it was that moment of weakness that ended up on Warpspeed.

 

\--

 

Jim puts his head in his hands as Bones snorts into his americano.

 

“Don’t laugh at me Bones. I’m miserable,” Jim says, fiddling with the spoon in his latte.

 

“Yeah right kid. I can’t believe I’m even saying this but this goddamn article is literally proof of what everyone has been saying for four years. The hobgoblin loves you. Or at least wants to jump your bones.”

 

“But, Bones--” Jim whines but Bones interrupts

 

“There’s fucking PHOTOGRAPHIC evidence.”

 

“Yeah, but--   
  


“How many people have sent you that article?”

 

“Why does that matter?”   
  
Bones just fixes him with a  _ look.  _

 

“Like 5, ok?”

 

“Yeah that’s because literally everyone agrees with it.”

 

Jim groans as Bones chuckles at his misery. “I’m supposed to have dinner with him tonight. And then CHESS. It’s going to be so awkward.”

 

“Just talk to him about it. I’m sure he’s fidgeting in his logical pants.”

 

“He hasn’t mentioned it to me at all.”

 

Bones raises an incredulous eyebrow. “If you’re here freaking out, what do you think he’s doing?”

 

Jim scrubs a hand down his face and says, “God, you’re right.”

 

“I know I’m right. I’ve been saying the same shit for three years, Jim. I’ve gotten really good at it. All that practice.”

 

“I’ll talk to him tonight over dinner.”

 

“You do that Jimbo.” Bones says with a firm nod. 

 

**

Jim does something stupid and spends the afternoon looking at the pictures in the stupid article. The more he looks, the more horrified he gets. God, he’s been so obvious. Spock must be irate.

 

It’s 1800 and he’s supposed to meet Spock for dinner in an hour. He doesn’t even know how he’ll act. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of him since the article came out and while that’s not entirely a new situation Jim thinks it might be more pointed than usual. Or maybe that’s his anxiety talking.

 

He talks himself into putting down his padd and taking a shower. The pictures aren’t magically going to become less damning if he stops looking at them. Or more damning. Taking a shower will clear his head.

 

By the time he’s buffed, shaved and soaped, he feels like a new man, ready to face the world and his first officer. 

 

They always meet for dinner at Spock’s place. Jim usually brings wine and whatever ingredients Spock has asked him to bring and then they cook together. This week it’s veggie lasagna and Spock didn’t ask him to bring anything so Jim wanders into Spock’s building toting a bottle of malbec and nothing else.

 

He manages to avoid the buzzer by scooching in behind an old lady with her groceries and he takes the stairs instead of the elevator. It’s only three floors up. But when he emerges from the stairwell, nothing feels as daunting as walking down the austere gray hallway and knocking on Spock’s door. The only thing that pushes him the rest of the way is the thought that Spock is waiting for him and god, in spite of everything, he never wants to leave Spock waiting.

 

He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. Invariably, less than five seconds pass before Spock pulls it open. The Vulcan inclines his head slightly in that mock bow that he always does when greeting Jim. “Captain.”

 

Jim grins and tries to will his palms to stop sweating. “Hey Spock. You ready to cook up some lasagna?”

 

“I have all the requisite ingredients,” Spock replies, stoic as ever as he steps back, allowing Jim to enter his apartment.

 

Jim trails his first officer into the kitchen where Spock is already browning onions. “I brought wine,” Jim blurts as he steps around the island. 

 

“Thank you, Captain. Please place your beverage on the counter,” Spock says, picking up the spatula by the stove and stirring the onions methodically.  Jim puts the paper clad wine bottle on the counter next to the fridge and claps his hands together.

 

“Okay! What first?”

 

“Tomatoes,” Spock says, pointing with his spatula to the small pile of romas on the island. “Dice them.”

 

The two work in silence, Jim finding that nice rhythm when cooking. There’s something peaceful about the low sizzle of the pan and the press of the tomatoes against the pads of his fingers. He guesses the feeling is that transient sense of home he’s only ever found on a starship. And next to Spock.

 

Jim clears his throat, knife stilling on the cutting board. When he doesn’t immediately say anything, Spock prompts, “Yes, Captain?”

 

“Do you think you could maybe call me Jim tonight? We’re on leave anyway. I’m not technically your captain.” Jim tries for nonchalant but he thinks it comes out squeaky.

 

“As you wish, Jim.”

 

God, Jim loves the way his name sounds on Spock’s tongue. The low baritone curving around the single syllable, keeping it safe. 

 

Once the lasagna is in the oven, Jim pours himself a glass of wine and wordlessly lifts the bottle in Spock’s direction, expecting the soft rebuff he always receives when offering his stalwart first officer alcohol. To his surprise, Spock nods and pulls down a second glass. 

 

After a hearty pour into the stemless pair of wine glasses, Jim joins Spock in the living room where Spock has already set up their chess set. When did it become  _ their  _ chess set? Probably when Jim bought the darned thing on shore leave and gave it to Spock as a gift for the 2.5 year mark during the mission. _ Halfway done. Isn’t that a miracle? _

 

Spock sits across from him with that absolute grace that Jim seems to never have mastered and extends his hand for the wine glass Jim offers him.

 

Just ask him, Jim tells himself sternly. Clear the air. This is way too tense.

 

“So…” Jim begins lamely. Spock looks up from the board where he is steadily setting the pieces and raises an eyebrow expectantly, though his hands don’t stop moving across the black and white tiers. Jim takes a fortifying sip of his wine. More like a gulp.

 

“Did you see that article in Warpspeed?”

 

Spock’s right hand falters and he knocks over the knight he had just placed. Jim reaches out to set it back on its feet.

 

“Indeed. Lieutenant Uhura forwarded the article to me in jest. I presume she did the same to you.”

 

“Yeah,” Jim laughs. “And like five other people. Pretty funny huh?”

 

“That is not the word I would use,” Spock says quietly, returning his attention to the board.

 

Jim looks down into his wine and rolls the cup in his hand. “What word would you use, Spock?”

 

Spock’s eyes snap up to meet his and he feels that same tension he felt in Ch’Pihit, like a butterfly pinned to a board. “After...our encounter on Ch’Pihit, I had thought I had my preference for you under adequate control. It was distressing to see proof otherwise. I would think you would feel the same.”

 

Jim laughs but the humor has left the room like air from a balloon and he feels just as deflated. “Distressing, huh. Yeah, it was dist--wait,  _ preference  _ for me?”

 

Spock blinks twice in rapid succession, that brief shuttering Jim has come to associate with brewing storms and Vulcan irrationality. He sets down his cup on the coffee table and sits up straight. “Preference?” he repeats softly as his heart skips in his chest.

 

“You made your feelings perfectly clear on Ch’Pihit, you do not share my regard and I do not fault you for it. I thought, perhaps, we had moved past any undue emotional response on your part as we have resumed our weekly meetings in the evenings. If that is not the case, we can cease.”

 

Jim puts out his hands in a placating gesture as Spock starts down his track of rambling logic. “Wait, wait, wait. You did  _ not _ make yourself perfectly clear on Ch’Pihit. We were  _ drugged _ , Spock. I thought you were still with Uhura. I felt like a fucking jerk afterwards for even touching you.”

 

Spock’s eyes bore into him, his face stony. “I gave you my consent. I instigated--”

 

Jim stands up and runs his hands through his hair. “How was I to know you were in any sort of mindset to  _ give  _ consent, Spock? I’m human, you’re Vulcan. The damn soup might have made me horny as hell but who was I to say it didn’t, I don’t know, incapacitate you.”

 

“It did not,” Spock says firmly. 

 

“So what? You’re saying that you’re...that you…have feelings for me? Romantic feelings?” Jim says, suddenly aware that he’s looming over Spock so he sits back down on the chair.

 

For a moment, Spock looks at him with exasperated affection and Jim feels jubilant, but the warmth quickly fades as Spock reigns himself back in. “Have I not said as much?”

 

“No, you haven’t. But ok. Ok.”

 

Jim wrings his hands in his lap as his heart drums in his chest so loud he can feel it in his throat. He smiles and says, “You know, I thought you were still dating Uhura. I just found out you broke up like..two days ago.”

 

Spock looks at him suspiciously. “We ceased our romantic relationship 2.56 years ago.”   
  


“I know. She told me when she sent me that article,” Jim says as he stands and makes his way over to Spock. Putting his hands on his first officer’s shoulders he continues, “You know, if I’d known, I would have made a move ages ago.”

 

Jim leans down so that their noses are touching. “And just to be clear, I prefer you too.”

 

He closes the distance between their mouths and Spock exhales sharply. Jim smiles into the kiss and nips at his lower lip. Even without the rush of an alien aphrodisiac in his bloodstream, it’s still makes his body sing. 

 

Spock pulls back and Jim makes a little sound of displeasure. “Jim, are you certain?”

 

Jim pokes Spock in the chest and laughs a little. “Let’s not have a repeat of Ch’Pihit.”

 

The awe on Spock’s face clouds over as he searches Jim’s gaze. “On Ch’Pihit, you said that you and Ensign Chekov…”

 

Sudden clarity descends on Jim. “Oh God. Did you think I meant me and Chekov…” Jim makes a horribly unclear hand gesture but Spock seems to get it because he nods tightly. “Oh gross! No! We were on Hephasteon and were exposed to this flower thing and while we were both horny as hell afterwards, we took care of it separately. Extremely separately,” Jim says with no little amount of force.

 

Some of the tension leaves Spock’s body and Jim reaches out to cup his jaw. Spock’s touch against the back of his hand his feather light. “It seems I have caused us both a great deal of distress.”

 

“This might be really dumb, but I’m kind of thankful Warpspeed wrote that article. I don’t think we would ever have talked about this.”

 

Spock wraps one arm around Jim’s waist and nuzzles into his hand. Jim’s just about to lean in for another kiss when the timer goes off in the kitchen. Spock stands to take care of it and Jim collapses into the vacated chair. He calls after Spock’s retreating back “To be continued, right?”

 

\--

 

Jim’s comm dings from the bedside table.

 

_ So how did it go kid. You talk to the hobgoblin? _

 

Jim smiles down at the screen, and tries to think through a reply when another message comes through.

 

_ If you had sex don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. _

 

Jim laughs and Spock rolls over beside him. “What is it, Jim?” he asks, slightly rumpled from sleep and absolutely adorable. Jim gives him a swift kiss and smiles.

 

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

 

Jim types out his reply and tosses his comm back on the nightstand before throwing his arm across Spock’s chest and snuggling up against his side. Spock absentmindedly runs a hand down his back. 

 

_ ;) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
